


Karl

by Robespierre



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Character Death, Cutting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-18
Updated: 2012-05-18
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:37:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robespierre/pseuds/Robespierre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders harms himself in an attempt to escape (mentally and physically) from the oppressive environment of the Circle Tower.  Karl discovers his secret.   </p><p> </p><p>  <i>From this kinkmeme prompt:  I want to see Anders harm himself during his Circle days. Cutting, scratching, things like that. He has to hide it so as to not be suspected of blood magic.  Then Karl sees the scars when they sleep together.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Karl

It’s not fair. 

But as he’s been reminded countless times by good little law-abiding mages of the Circle Tower, sometimes life just isn’t fair.

He’d almost made it. Just a few more miles and he was sure he would have lost the last of the templars chasing him. Just a few more miles – if it hadn’t been for that damned tree. Running full speed through the dark forest and turning his head for just a moment to look for pursuers, he’d failed to notice the thick, low-hanging tree branch that knocked him to the ground, unconscious.

And now he was back in the tower, surrounded once again by steely-eyed templars and simpering, rule-following mages.

It must have been the hottest day of the year. The summer sun baked the bricks of the building, turning the mages’ quarters into sweltering, sticky torture chambers. It seemed as though the entire population of the tower had moved to the bank of Lake Calenhad. The joyful shouts of young apprentices could be heard through the tiny window set high in the wall above his bed. 

After glancing around one last time to ensure he was not being observed, Anders reached under his mattress and pulled out what had, over the years, become his most treasured possession.

It certainly didn’t look like anything special – just a palm-sized shard of broken mirror. Frowning slightly as he caught his reflection in it, he carried it behind the privacy screen in the bath, folding himself into the corner farthest from the door in an attempt to disappear completely. 

Freedom had been so close. He’d already felt lighter, out from under the omnipresent scrutiny of the Templars. And it had slipped through his fingers yet again. He choked back a gasp that threatened to turn into a sob as the crushing realizations hit him like physical blows. He was back, destined for more punishment (though at least they had not sent him into solitary confinement this time), and forced to endure the soul-crushing imprisonment that was the Circle Tower. 

He lost his internal struggle, giving his body over to great, wracking sobs that shook him to his very core. He wept bitter tears, adding to the countless number he’d shed since he was brought to the tower at the age of twelve. There was only one way that he knew to ground himself and to bring the pain to a manageable level that would allow him to function.

Wrapping his arms around his knees until the shaking subsided, he clenched his teeth against the oh-so-visceral sorrow. It was time – if he didn’t do it now, he felt as though he might die. He pulled the hem of his robe up over his shins and knobby knees, exposing his pale thighs. 

He hissed at the sting as the mirror’s edge sliced across his flesh, bright red blood flowing freely from the parallel lines he created. To a certain extent, he imagined the anger and despair flowing from his veins as well. After a few minutes of damaging both of his thighs, his hand so covered with blood that he could barely maintain his grip on the shard of mirror, he finally arrived at a point where he felt nothing. 

That was the goal – this numb nothingness. Anders had discovered in his years at the tower that this feeling of being so overwhelmed with bitterness and misery that he felt as though he was drowning would never go away. He’d never be able to supplant his rage and despair with happier emotions. The only respite he would ever be able to find was in purging those feelings along with his blood, leaving him empty and hollow, but finally calm for a moment. 

“Anders? Are you in here?”

“I – I’m back here. Hold on a moment – I’ll be right out!” 

He hoped his trembling voice hadn’t given him away. Pulling a clean towel from the stack behind him, he quickly wiped at the cuts on his legs, cleaned his hands, and stashed the towel beneath a pile of unlaundered robes. He had to be so careful – no one could ever see what he did or he’d be accused of blood magic and probably killed. And while some days the hopelessness was so crushing that he thought he’d welcome death, most days the need to escape from the tower was stronger than the need to escape from his life. He _knew_ that he was destined to become more than just a name whispered throughout the tower – more than just Anders, the one who couldn’t resist the lure of blood magic. 

Shaking his head as though to clear it, he made sure the towel was completely hidden, verified that his robes were in place, and walked out to meet his guest. His robe rubbed against the flayed skin of his thighs, sparking pain with each step he took. He welcomed the pain. That was why he never healed himself magically. He would feel this for days, and each step both reminded him of his anger and of the fact that it was possible to escape from it, if only for a little while. 

“Anders! I’m so glad you’re all right!”

It was Karl. His only friend in the tower. The one person who understood just how much the constant surveillance chafed at him and why he had to try to escape again and again. Anders could always count on Karl to sit with him each time he was brought back by the templars. Sometimes Karl held his hand and whispered that everything was going to be all right. Other times he wrapped his arms around Anders and held him tightly while he cried, allowing Anders to share his burden for a while.

Karl’s arms were around him in an instant, hugging him so tightly it took his breath away.

“Oh, Anders, I was so worried about you.” His voice came out in a gruff whisper. “I’d heard rumors that they’d found you and that you were hurt.”

Anders felt himself relaxing in Karl’s embrace, entirely overcome by the wide range of emotions he’d passed through in the last few hours: from fear to burning hate to heart-breaking sorrow to numbness. And now, finally, peace.

Karl gently guided Anders’ now-exhausted body onto his side on his bed. He stretched out Anders’ legs and removed his shoes in an attempt to make the runaway mage as comfortable as possible. 

Karl stretched out behind him and brushed the hair back from his sweaty forehead. “Anders,” he hissed, “You’re burning up! It’s too hot for your robe. Here, let me help you.”

As Karl began to unbutton the robe, Anders couldn’t think of a reason to object. Karl was here; Karl would take care of him. The heat of the room was making him drowsy and he did feel much cooler as the robe opened, baring his shoulders and chest. For the moment, he was calm. He felt safe.

Until Karl unhooked his belt and started on the buttons at his waist. Through his heat and exhaustion-induced fog, he suddenly realized that he couldn’t let him go any farther – he couldn’t let him see! Anders quickly rolled over on his stomach, mumbling, “No, thank you, I’m fine…I feel much better.”

“Anders, what is wrong? Are you – ”

Karl gasped, looking down at his hand. It was covered in blood. His voice was suddenly low and fierce.

“They hurt you? I swear to you, if I find out who did this, I’ll kill him!”

Anders groaned, his face in buried in his pillow.

“Who was it? Anders, tell me! Are you hurt badly? Please let me look!”

He didn’t reply, just made a small, plaintive noise that further worried Karl.

“I’m going to go get a healer. I’ll be right back, Anders. You’ll be all right!”

“Karl, no!” Anders finally lifted his head. “I’m fine.”

Karl moved to the other side of the bed to be able to make eye contact with Anders. 

“What happened? Was it a templar?”

Anders shook his head.

“Then what? What happened to you?”

Anders was silent for a moment, long enough that he could tell Karl was preparing another question for him. Finally, he decided that if there was one person in the world who had to know his secret, he was glad that it was his friend Karl. 

“I…I happened.”

“Anders, I don’t understand.”

“I…I did it myself.”

“Did what? Show me, please.” Karl’s voice had taken on the tone that the older mages used when talking to apprentices who had lost control of their magic: calm and level, betraying no hint of emotion.

Anders slowly flipped over to lie on his back. “I don’t know, Karl. It’s just that – ” 

“Shh.” Karl soothed him, squeezing his hands gently. “Let me see.”

Anders closed his eyes, not wanting to see Karl’s face as he turned his attention back to the robe’s buttons. The pounding of his heart was deafening, drowning out the noise from outside.

“Oh, Anders,” Karl breathed, his fingers gently stroking the unblemished skin near Anders’ knees. He was silent for so long that Anders finally looked up to see tears streaming down his face as he took in the damage – not just the fresh cuts but the hundreds of scars covering his thighs and stomach. 

“Karl, it’s okay. I just…” He tried to explain but there were no words.

“I think I can heal this. Just hold still.”

The warm rush of healing magic washed through his body, relaxing every last tense muscle and forcing a small contented sigh from him. He couldn’t remember a time in his life that he had been cared for the way Karl tended to him. He squeezed his eyes shut against tears of gratitude for this man who was his mentor, his comfort, his lifeline, his safety, his friend – his _everything_. 

Suddenly Karl’s hands were cupping his face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. Anders opened his eyes to see Karl kneeling at the side of the bed, an incomprehensible look in his tear-filled blue eyes. 

“It’s all right. I’m here. You’re all right now.” 

Suddenly, Karl’s mouth was on his, gently pressing their lips together. It was a chaste kiss, lasting only a moment, but Karl jumped back as if he’d been scalded. Anders’ eyes widened and his lips moved as if to start speaking, but no sound came out. 

“Anders, I’m sorry – I just don’t want to see you hurting. I’m so sorry! I’ll leave now.” 

Karl was already on his feet and halfway toward the door.

“Karl!” 

He stopped and turned around to see Anders sitting up on his bed, face worried. The two men stared at each other, not speaking, for a long moment. Anders worried his bottom lip with his teeth for a few seconds, then looked away. He spoke without meeting Karl’s eyes.

“Do it again?”

Before Anders even had the chance to look up, Karl had crossed the room and knelt next to him on the bed. 

“Are you sure?”

Anders looked up at the older man, his brown eyes meeting Karl’s blue. There was a pause, then, “Yes.”

Karl took him at his word, wrapping his arms around Anders and molding their mouths together. The kiss was as gentle as the first, but different this time because both men were participating. When Karl’s tongue slid along his bottom lip, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for Anders to open his mouth to him, their tongues meeting in a slow, sweet glide.

Karl broke from the kiss (far too early as far as Anders was concerned) and pressed his forehead against Anders’, both of them breathing heavily. 

“Anders, will you let me take care of you?”

There was no point in stopping to consider an answer. He nodded, realizing that he would answer any question Karl asked with a yes. Karl was the best thing in his life: the only person who listened to him without judging and the only person he had ever trusted enough to confide in. For the last two years, Karl had been the last person he’d though of before sleep claimed him and the first person he wanted to see upon waking. He wanted to spend all of his time with Karl, and if he could just get out of the tower and take Karl with him, he’d consider his life complete. 

Karl was talking, Anders realized. “…right back, I promise.”

Karl disappeared, taking his warmth (reassuring even in the day’s heat) with him, only to return a few moments later with a wet cloth. He knelt in front of Anders and gently wiped the remaining blood from his legs. Though the cuts he’d made today had not scarred, thanks to Karl’s healing magic, there were still so many others marring his pale skin. 

Hands holding Anders’ thighs just above the knees, Karl slid himself backward on the bed to lie between Anders legs. He waited until he had Anders’ complete attention, then pressed his lips to one of the scars. Over and over again, he planted slow kisses to each scar, as though he could drive away all of his pain with just the touch of his mouth. 

When Karl spoke, it was in a harsh voice, not the whisper he had been expecting. “You cannot do this any longer. I will help you, Anders. Let me be the one who stands between you and all of that anger. I will do anything for you. Anything. Please, promise me this.”

Though he didn’t know whether or not it would be a promise he could keep, he agreed. “I promise.”

Karl continued to kiss the flawed skin of his thighs, slowly moving toward his stomach. This time, some of the kisses were accompanied by long strokes of his tongue. Anders realized at the same time that his body did that his robe was fully opened and he was clad only in his smallclothes. As he felt Karl’s tongue on his hip, a spike of lust drove into him, causing him to gasp as he became rock-hard. 

He could feel Karl’s smile against him as the other man paused for only an instant before moving to the sensitive skin of his stomach, no longer paying attention to the scars. Instead, he curled his fingers around the waist of Anders’ smallclothes and pulled down slowly, pressing hot kisses to each inch of skin that was revealed. 

Anders’ gasp was accompanied by a small thrust of his hips as he willed Karl to finally touch him. An hour ago, he hadn’t even known he wanted this. Now, it was the only thing he wanted. 

Karl did not keep him waiting long. He quickly pulled the Anders’ smallclothes down to his knees and wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. This time the sound that burst from Anders’ mouth was more of a groan than a gasp. Karl began to stroke him, grinning at the sounds that Anders was powerless to stop making. 

But those noises were nothing compared to the moan that erupted from him when he felt Karl’s mouth cover the very tip of him. He whined, hands reaching up as of their own volition to tangle in Karl’s short hair. The slow glide of Karl’s mouth down his shaft temporarily took his breath away, rendering him unable to do anything but increase his grip on the other man’s hair. 

This was the greatest feeling in the world. Far from despondent or enraged, Anders was alive under Karl’s hands and mouth. He had never imagined that he could feel this way, let alone that someone else could make him feel like this. He needed to reciprocate, to try to make Karl feel the same way that he did. It took every bit of his willpower to push gently on Karl’s shoulders and softly say, “Stop.”

Karl sprang up, instantly worried. “What is it? Are you all right?”

Anders nearly giggled at the horrified look on his face. 

“I’m fine. It’s just…well, I think you’re overdressed.”

Karl’s mouth split into a grin. “I think I can help out with that.”

Karl stood to quickly pull his robe over his head. Anders took the time to slip his arms from his robe and rid himself completely of his smallclothes. When he looked up, Karl was standing naked in front of him, still smiling. He climbed onto Anders, lowering himself until they both groaned at the sensation of their naked cocks meeting. He thrust against Anders, causing the younger man’s eyes to roll back in his head and filthy expletives to pour from his mouth. 

“Karl! It’s…you’re…oh!” He was having trouble forming a coherent phrase, lost in the delicious friction.

“This is for you, Anders. You’re in charge.” 

Before Anders had time to understand just what Karl meant, Karl had pulled away to lie on his back and pull Anders over on top of him. Anders thrust against him, setting a quick rhythm that had both men gasping for air. He felt as though his every nerve was on fire, sending white-hot ecstasy coursing through his veins. _This_ was real. _This_ was what mattered. Karl and Anders. Together. Dragging each other closer and closer to the edge.

Karl thrust back, harder than he had before. His hands gripped Anders’ arse, pulling him closer. “Oh, Anders! It’s so good!”

Anders was close, so close that his vision was narrowing and becoming fuzzy around the edges. All he could see was Karl’s face. 

“Ah! I’m going to, Anders, oh, I’m…soon!” 

Karl’s body went rigid as he came in a scalding wash onto their stomachs. Eyes closed, he repeated Anders’ name like a chant: “Anders, oh, Anders, Anders, Anders, oh, Anders, oh, love…”

 _Love_. Anders’ spine bowed as he followed Karl over the edge, his release flowing through his entire body and out like waves crashing on a shore. This was better than anything he’d ever imagined, this feeling of total exhilaration that was thousands of times better than the numbness he had thought was the best he could ever hope for.

Stunned, he could do nothing but collapse onto Karl’s chest. Their lips met in a languid kiss as Karl’s hands traced small circles on his back. 

Anders pulled away to lie on his side, an arm and leg still draped over Karl’s body. He, suddenly shy, couldn’t meet Karl’s eyes.

“You…you love me?”

“Yes, Anders. I love you.”

 

\-----

 

As he ran, he thought of that day. That was their first time, but there were many others. Everything changed. Karl had ceased to be his friend and become his whole world. Instead of living from escape attempt to escape attempt, he sought to find ways to leave for good with Karl by his side. 

But he couldn’t figure it out. Karl was older and a much more powerful mage, a man who, if captured, would most likely be imprisoned for life. Or killed. 

So Anders escaped one last time, his heart heavy as he stared at the tower from a cave a few miles away. Bringing a hand to his lips, he made a vow witnessed by only the trees and rocks surrounding him: “I _will_ come back for you, Karl.” 

When the opportunity to join the Grey Wardens presented itself to him, he jumped at the chance. Maybe as a member of this elite group he would gain some political clout – maybe he would be able to change the world’s opinions on mages. 

Saving Amaranthine and defeating the Architect impressed people. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not convince anyone to listen to him.

Perhaps Ferelden was not the place to start. Then Karl was sent to Kirkwall. He followed, thinking that maybe people in Kirkwall would listen and see the error of their ways. But nothing changed. 

For years, thoughts of Karl had urged Anders on and motivated him to find a way to release mages everywhere from their oppression. Every injustice he witnessed added fuel to the fire, driving him forward in his quest to live freely with Karl and his fellow mages. 

In all those years, he never once lost hope. When it seemed as though all was lost and nothing would ever change, he simply had to picture Karl’s blue eyes to remind him what he was fighting for. 

He never lost hope. Not even when the notes from Karl started to become more desperate. In fact, he finally figured out a way to take Karl away. Standing outside the chantry that night, he was full of hope for a future for the two of them. 

And then…then…

That terrible night. The night he had to say, “I got here too late. I’m sorry, Karl. I’m so sorry.” The night he had to see the emptiness in Karl’s eyes as he ended his life. 

That night, for the first time in years, he retreated to his Darktown clinic, barricaded the door, and threw himself onto the ground, pulling his robe up to expose his legs. As sobs wracked his body and tears fell in a constant stream from his eyes, he pulled out his dagger, still red with his lover’s blood, and began to carve into his flesh. Not with neat, parallel lines this time, but with letters. Repeated over and over until the blood poured from him and he finally drifted off to meet the welcome darkness – _Karl Karl Karl Karl Karl_.


End file.
